Smirk
by C'sMelody
Summary: Nathaniel thinks a bloody song can't make such a difference. Bartimaeus doesn't agree. AU-ish drabble. Set sometime between GE and PG. Or maybe after PG. You decide.


**Hello! Here I am!**

 **This was just a bit of random, harmless fun I wrote today because I ran out of stuff to do without internet. Been like that for an entire week. And now I'm relying on my lovely neighbours downstairs. Lots of love to them for giving me their password. I'll be sure to bake you cookies.**

 **My inspiration comes from a very sappy and corny song I actually like a lot. Fans of the Harry Potter movies may have heard it at least once. It's called _Magic Works_ by The Weird Sisters.**

 **Enjoy the fluff!**

 **Disclaimer : I don't even own internet at the moment, so nope, I don't think I own the Bartimaeus series.**

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 **Smirk**

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" _That_ is a ridiculous assumption," Nathaniel says, waving the CD in front of Bartimaeus' unimpressed eyes. "This is only a bloody song. _One_ song."

Bartimaeus tut-tuts at him and steps forward, much to Nathaniel's discomfort. "You underestimate the power of sap songs. As a teenager, it is nearly second-nature that you should succumb to the symptoms."

Nathaniel frowned, still not convinced. "That's just gibberish."

"Well, magic _does_ work, does it not?"

"And that's a horrendous pun."

"So are all of your war propaganda, and you don't seem so bothered about it."

A vein pops on Nathaniel's forehead, and off he goes, over to his desk. He soon produces a small, portable radio and looks pointedly at Bartimaeus, his eyebrows doing all the talking. Bartimaeus smirks. Nathaniel has gotten himself pretty worked up about this for all the talk of meaninglessness.

As the music starts to play, he marches to Bartimaeus—still frowning, still resolute—and offers a hand Bartimaeus easily takes without any comment. The annoying smirk is still there, and Nathaniel once more allows himself to become irritated by the sight.

Nathaniel knows how to dance, of course—a basic skill for a successful social life. Bartimaeus does too. The problem is they don't seem able to find a consensus—which shouldn't have been a surprise—but it bothers Nathaniel greatly, seeing as he is trying for a late 20th, early 21st century ballad approach, and Bartimaeus seems to want to take them back to France during the 1780s with a _contradanse_.

He makes a comment about it, and Bartimaeus only pulls him closer, as if personal space is all the change dance has endorsed throughout the centuries.

Nathaniel supposes he has a point.

Still. "You do realize this is not a Latin American dance," he snaps.

Bartimaeus' smirk opens to show a set of pearly white teeth. "I thought you were after modern." His breath smells like exotic spices.

Nathaniel pulls back a bit to straighten himself. "I was after _correct_ dance style."

"Why are you always so stuck up?" Bartimaeus inquires with a rare chuckle. "You're supposed to have fun while dancing."

Nathaniel wonders who the hell would have fun dancing with a sarcastic chatterbox who doesn't understand the concept of slow-dancing. His head is already whirling from the complex steps and spins Bartimaeus was having him do. He uses the hand that was on Bartimaeus' shoulder to push him back an inch or two. What is this stupid song about again?

Bartimaeus kindly reminds him as he pulls Nathaniel close once more and murmurs the lyrics in his ear. What a cheek. As if that would work.

He steadies his shaking legs, finds his lungs could use some more oxygen. Nathaniel considers starting to exercise again. A magician does need to have good stamina.

" _Don't let this magic die._ "

"You sing horribly," Nathaniel mumbles. A blatant lie, of course. Bartimaeus snorts right on cue. "And that is so, _so_ corny."

Bartimaeus kisses his neck. Nathaniel can feel his entire body overreacting. "Don't be a party-pooper."

"Just the facts."

"And a newly earned title of party-pooper."

Nathaniel pushes Bartimaeus once more to get a good look at him, without managing to throw him off-balance or making him lose their swaying rhythm. But god darn it, he _would_ undo that smirk before the song ended.

Bartimaeus takes the opportunity to let Nathaniel fall back. He swallows a yelp, feels his hair brush the floor right before he gets pulled back up. Nathaniel doesn't stop an inch short of Bartimaeus' face. No, he takes the opportunity to erase that smirk off his lips with his own just as the singer's lusty voice finishes the last chorus and the strings go up and beyond to add to the sappy vibe of this ridiculous song.

Nathaniel can barely process the last lines for how loud his heart is beating. If Bartimaeus' chest wasn't glued to his own, it would have broken through. And he doesn't let him go that easily, either. Bartimaeus takes it upon himself to ensure Nathaniel doesn't slip through his tight embrace and godforsaken _smirking_ lips. How can anyone smirk during a kiss, he wonders. It's a serious issue, he decides, as he puts in the extra effort to rid the world of it.

Bartimaeus was the one to break the kiss, just in time to say to an out-of-breath Nathaniel, "I win." With a smirk. Of course.

"No, you don't," he automatically retors.

"You kissed me," Bartimaeus says matter-of-factly.

"So? We do that all the time!" he insists, and detaches himself from Bartimaeus with great difficulty.

"Not while we're dancing." Bartimaeus makes a move Nathaniel barely evades.

"We only danced _once_ , and that was during that weird Mad Clown affair."

"Exactly." Bartimaeus still looks smug about it, even as horrible images flood Nathaniel's brain. Well, _that_ had been awful. And Nathaniel is too distracted to avoid Bartimaeus' hands pulling them together again. "Besides, you never dance _and_ kiss me during work hours."

Nathaniel frowns at him while he tries to break the grasp. "This was just a ploy, wasn't it? To distract me from my work?"

Bartimaeus winks at him. "A double win."

Nathaniel groans. He should have known. Bartimaeus is so goddamn aggravating. But he's tired of being aggravated for the day. "Fine. What is it you want?"

If Bartimaeus were a dog, his tail would be waggling.

It is Nathaniel's turn to smirk.


End file.
